


nights on fifth, in between b and a

by pinkfen



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Boyfriends, Established Relationship, First Love, Fluff, Light Angst, Living Together, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29218449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkfen/pseuds/pinkfen
Summary: They'll make this work. Whatever it takes.[chapter 2 added]
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starwreck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwreck/gifts), [Bruisingblush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bruisingblush/gifts).



> the first chapter of this is a rework of my got7 fic 'moreish', I've written a second shorter epiloguish chap to conclude it
> 
> title from a lauv song
> 
> cw for brief mention of homophobia and bullying

“I’m moving out.”

Three simple words from Jaemin, ever so casually while loosening his tie, and Jeno’s entire world tilts on its axis.

It feels like a lifetime before he exhales — he’d forgotten to breathe for a moment, something he thought only happened in fiction — but it’s only been seconds. He steels himself, because Jaemin is looking at him expectantly, but his voice is slightly shaky when he answers.

“Let me help you pack.”

That hadn’t been what he wanted to say. But it was the only thing he could.

Jaemin looks surprised, but not disappointed. “Okay.”

Jeno stands up, dragging his hoodie hems down with clammy fingers. “Where do you want to start?”

-

They’re in the room Jaemin decided to begin, his tie draped over the back of the couch, top button of his pristine work shirt undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Jeno keeps a more careful berth than usual, feeling the fresh awkwardness between them acutely. Jaemin has a duffel in his hand he avoids looking at, boxes in the hallway Jeno unearthed from the closet wordlessly when Jaemin asked if he had any.

It’s the guest room, or ‘Jaemin’s bedroom’ used only when guests sleep over, for propriety’s sake. Everybody and their mother probably knows their relationship is more than roommates, than friends, but they’ve never asked bluntly, probably because Jeno and Jaemin never told.

It’s spare, obviously unlived in with the few toiletries and changes of clothes Jaemin needs on those odd nights. They’d offer their guest this room, but predictably he would insist on sleeping on the couch — because for some dumb reason Jeno and Jaemin just couldn’t enter the same room and shut the door in front of a witness. And now they would never have to.

Jaemin has started work without ceremony, throwing open the closet and tossing a few things into his duffel — Jeno will have to help him fold them neatly later, because that’s what he always does.

He hovers behind, desperate for something to do with his hands. He can smell Jaemin’s cologne from this far, and feels grimly thankful he won’t have to smell it again, to remind Jaemin not to spray it in front of the cats when his mother brings them to visit.

Speaking of which — he doesn’t know how he’ll break the news to his parents. After five years, they’d only just accepted that Jeno is going to be co-habiting with another man for the foreseeable future, and no, he’s not going to get married by thirty. Jeno’s mother had started visiting once a month instead of every six months, a clear sign she’d warmed up to Jaemin.

It’d seemed to mean so much to Jaemin, just a few months ago. Jeno had even felt a pressure — a nice, giddy weight, the sensation that they were set for forever.

He’d never felt like that about anyone he’d met — that they were going to be part of his life until the end. And now, the only human he’d allowed himself to think of in this way feels wrenched away abruptly.

-

“Is this yours or mine?"

Jaemin is holding out a pair of sneakers, one that had in fact been Jeno’s, but he’d only worn once. Jaemin had kept looking at it on that day, another one of the ubiquitous days they went to a nice restaurant to eat and then strolled around without ever calling it a date. Jeno offered to switch shoes with him at the end of the night, after Jaemin pecked him awkwardly on the corner of his mouth, then looked away. Jaemin’s own sneakers were beat up, and Jeno actually really wanted them, because he knew if he kept them forever he would think of Jaemin every time he saw them.

Now, he hopes Jaemin will take those with him too.

“They’re yours,” he replies as neutrally as he’s able. “So are those at the back of the closet.”

“Oh.” Jaemin unearths them. Jeno’d worn them, just once, to feel Jaemin’s lingering warmth, and then kept them away just before they fell apart in a corner where they would stay intact. They’re dusty now, relics. Old and almost ugly. Jaemin looks slightly embarrassed to see them too, like he’d forgotten that night.

“I’m done,” Jaemin announces, dropping the shoes into the bin. He stands up and dusts his hands off on his thighs. “Will you help me carry this bag to the couch, please?”

Jeno wordlessly complies, Jaemin stripping the coverlet off the bed as he leaves. He drops the duffel under Jaemin’s tie on the couch, and closes his eyes briefly. Opening them, he realises it’s not a dream.

-

The room looks sparser than before when he returns, only the lone sheet balled up on the bed with the pillowcase. Jaemin pauses shutting the closet door when he says, “What about the other stuff?"

“Throw them out for me.”

Jaemin slings the trash bag over his shoulder and exits the room, heading for their bedroom.

-

Jeno walks in with two cups of Jaemin’s favourite tea five minutes later. Jaemin is already knee-deep in packing and he looks up, creasing his brow in surprise. Jeno offers him a cup and he hesitates before taking it.

“Thanks.” Jeno takes a sip of his own and eyes Jaemin until he takes one too. He sets down his cup on the dresser, picking up a few of Jaemin’s books.

“Where should I put these?”

Jaemin points to a suitcase. He grimaces. “I know that’s yours, but —“

“Take it,” Jeno answers. Take everything. He wonders why he almost added that.

“Thank you.” Jaemin has slid on his glasses and is going through a bunch of stuff he’s pulled out from under the bed. Jeno sees both their high school yearbooks, almost identical when stacked atop each other.

He thinks of the matching signatures on the last pages of both books, the last day of high school. He thinks of that year.

He’d met Jaemin in the middle of their second year in high school, on the cusp of seventeen. He’d spent many long afternoons at that time lying on the deserted rooftop of their classroom building, thinking about life, and on one of those, Jaemin burst through the door.

Neither he nor the trio of bullies at his heels noticed Jeno at first. And so, unwillingly, he witnessed Jaemin being tormented to the point of tears about “having a crush on one of them.”

He gathered that the four of them were originally friends and Jaemin was losing not only his dignity but people he trusted and liked. He read the shame scrawled plainly on Jaemin’s face, the self-hatred and desire to disappear forever into a hole in the ground, and for the first time in his adolescence, Jeno felt a violent stirring in his heart.

Because that was how he had felt every day ever since the nightmarish moment he realised that he didn’t like girls, but boys.

The bullies eventually left, but not before leaving Jaemin in a wreck. Jeno was trapped by then, had no way of sneaking off without revealing his presence, and Jaemin stayed lying on the cold hard ground, unable to get to his feet, for what seemed like hours.

When Jeno was near enough to see the drying tear tracks on his face, Jaemin finally sprung up, his eyes wild with fear and consternation. Jeno’s face, too, was burning. All he wanted was to walk away, to let his silence and retreating back reassure Jaemin that he wouldn’t tell. Not because they were the same, but because he felt a red hot anger for those despicable bullies, and an inexplicable solidarity with Jaemin whom he had never even noticed around school before that day.

He was pretty — really pretty, the forbidden side of Jeno noted, as he had been doing with more guys recently. It wasn’t the first time this fact would stop his heart in the years to come, but it was the first he didn’t let it show. There was no real way to tell Jaemin he was gorgeous, through the years, so Jeno settled into not bothering to try.

-

That afternoon, the sun beating down on them, Jeno had forgone all his instincts and kneeled down beside Jaemin, his heart pounding so loudly he couldn’t hear anything else. Jaemin’s eyes were saucer-like and he didn’t resist when Jeno touched his cold hand, then pressed their palms together firmly. He could feel Jaemin’s heartbeat picking up in his wrist as overpowering relief, disbelief and understanding dawned in his eyes.

They started finding each other on the rooftop — Jaemin would poke his head around the door, shyly, his whole face lighting up when he saw Jeno lounging there. Jeno never let it show, but he started looking forward to school solely because of these clandestine after-school hours with Jaemin.

They never did anything clandestine, but at that age, in that environment, simply meeting up with the knowledge of what they had shared in their hearts was enough to send his teenage heart and hormones into overdrive.

It was all they needed, so much so that by the end of their third and last year of high school, all they had ever moved on to was chatting, and the barest, accidental brushes of hands as they lay next to each other on the rooftop and stared at the sky.

-

So from their long hours talking about everything under the sun, he knew all about Jaemin and Jaemin knew everything about him — except the most important thing, which was that he had fallen hopelessly for Jaemin. He had a crush on Jaemin, and if Jaemin did not have a crush on him too, Jeno felt like he might actually die.

He might wind up being the first person in the world to die of a broken heart.

-

On the last day of high school, he thought Jaemin wasn’t going to turn up. He almost hoped so, because he had been wrestling so much with the conflict of going separate ways after high school that he hadn’t slept in nights and he looked the train wreck he felt like.

It was writ so large on his face, the fact that he was expiring from pining, that he knew Jaemin would be able to read him like a book. And Jeno didn’t want to pressure him into anything, if Jaemin didn’t feel the same.

Something in his chest unfurled when Jaemin pushed open the door, hesitantly, for the first time in months. They’d taken so for granted that either one would find the other every afternoon that they just burst through the door every day without a second thought, like they had made the place their own.

And it had become a sanctuary, unconsciously, accidentally, like Jeno realised sanctuaries found you.

“Will you sign my yearbook?” Jaemin jolted him into disoriented reality with the unexpected question. Shakily, Jeno took the proffered pen and scrawled a sloppy signature. His pen paused on the last words.

Best wishes, he wrote mutely, and then took his own yearbook out of his bag for Jaemin to sign too.

He doesn’t remember ever feeling so panicked again in his life as he felt that day.

-

But as he was leaving, running away before he exploded, Jaemin reached down for his hand. A real, unmistakable hand-hold. Jeno remembers how his heart had leapt into his throat just like it was yesterday.

“Do you… I… do you want to…?”

Jaemin spat out the words incoherently, his cheeks and ears flaming. His palm was clammy against Jeno’s, and just like that, it was the happiest day of Jeno’s life.

He parted his lips to the tentative, clumsy probing of Jaemin’s, and laced his fingers through his schoolmate’s.

-

Because they’d already applied to different universities in their attempts to pretend it didn't matter, and regretted it abjectly, when Jaemin’s new friend Donghyuck backed out of a living arrangement without warning and asked Jeno to take his place, Jeno had hesitated for less than a second before agreeing.

Jaemin’s hidden smile had made his heart throb, then.

It was this house they’d moved into a short time after graduating and starting work. Everyone just thought they’d gotten so used to being roommates, they were sharing a place to save expenses. And they never found it difficult to justify living together.

Everything had been sort of makeshift, inexplicit, an arrangement of convenience, that Jeno hadn’t grasped that it wasn’t set in stone until today. It turned out that Jaemin could and would up and leave at a moment’s notice, and the world would still go on spinning.

-

Somewhere along the way, in university, they’d become sex friends; fuck buddies, if that was the term for never having spelt out their relationship in zeros and ones, in the almost ten years that had passed since high school.

Jaemin’s probably right — they’re twenty-five, and it’s time for change. It was impossible for them to live like this forever.

-

Jaemin distinguishes between the yearbooks easily and tosses his in his duffel, placing Jeno’s back where it was. Jeno remembers those long sweltering hours under the sun, punishing himself for being himself, the feeling of silently drowning.

In the bathroom, Jaemin tosses his toothbrush in the bin. He leaves their shared toothpaste, doesn’t open the medicine cabinet with his old prescriptions. Jeno wants to hurt him by asking him to take everything, but just feels too worn out to speak.

-

They work in tandem, dragging the packed bags to the door together. Jaemin balls up his tie and shoves it in his pocket, rolls down his sleeves. Jeno fights down the suffocating sensation in his chest. It’s just the pain of being left so suddenly, abandoned. He’ll get over it once he’s processed what happened. He’ll do fine alone. Everyone is alone, anyway, and nobody stays. It’s the universal truth.

Jaemin plays with his fingers for awhile, seeming to want to say something.

“I’m sorry,” he finally speaks, pulling the ground from under Jeno again.

“For?” Jeno grits, thinking, Don’t tell me. He doesn’t want to hear about where Jaemin is going. What — or who — he’s leaving Jeno for.

“I should’ve told you earlier, given you some notice.”

A silence. “You were planning this? I mean, you didn’t just… decide?”

Jaemin laughs, bitterly. “No. It’s not just a while I’m leaving for, you know.”

“Why?” Jeno bursts out — or only in his mind. He still sounds calm outwardly; numb.

“Why?” Jaemin looks, oddly enough, relieved by his question. “You mean, why am I leaving?”

Jeno nods, resigned, burning with curiosity.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I guess I’m just… tired. I wanted to be alone for awhile.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I just thought…”

“You thought I was leaving for someone else? Why would you think that?”

“Why else would you leave?” He hears his voice getting defensive. “If that’s not the reason, you could just stay here. We could go back to being friends, if that’s what you —“ Jeno stops, hating the pleading in his voice.

“Really?” Jaemin’s voice is chillier.

“What?”

“We can never go back, Jen, no matter what.”

“Yes, I know — I didn’t mean that… But — why?” He’s starting to sound like a record breaking down.

Jaemin sighs. “I told you. I’m wrung out by the highs and lows. Physically and emotionally exhausted. I'm afraid... something like this can't end well. For a while, I just — I just want to stop feeling.”

Jeno understands Jaemin far better than he would like. It’s this numbness Jaemin's talking about, he realises, that he’s feeling right now. For him, it’s the precursor of deep pain, but can Jaemin really feel nothing after vanishing into the world without him?

“You can do that… if you leave this house? If you leave…?” He swallows hard, still unable to say the words.

Jaemin’s eyes look red-rimmed, blinking. “I have to try.”

Why? Jeno wants to repeat, but forces himself not to.

-

He can’t be selfish. Not if staying is really so painful and uncomfortable for the only man he’s ever felt for.

But still —

“Maybe we can work on it. I know something has to change, but can’t it be something else? Anything other than this?”

Jaemin looks surprised, stricken by his earnest plea.

He smiles, thinly, but for the first time since the start of their solemn procedure.

“Relationships aren’t supposed to be work,” he reminds Jeno, quietly.

“But maybe they are!” Jeno catches himself, flushing. “I mean, what isn’t work? If you think of it this way, everything we do is work of some kind. Some things just don’t feel like it. Because… they’re worth it.”

Jaemin looks up at him, silent. Jeno can’t read his expression and his heart trips.

“Maybe it’s not that the whole thing is over. Just… the honeymoon phase.”

“The honeymoon phase?” Jaemin repeats, chuckling a little. Jeno wants this, here, whatever it is, suddenly, with such an ache it threatens his breathing.

“What I’m saying is —“ he struggles, “— I want you to stay.”

Jaemin’s hand slowly moves down from the suitcase handle. He looks torn.

But he says, “For how long?”

“I don’t know,” Jeno rambles. “Long enough for us to make sure. That this really isn’t worth working for.”

-

It’s an eternity. But Jaemin drops his duffels, too, whispers Okay, and Jeno knows they’ll make this work. Whatever it takes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so tbh I started writing this bc I think my favourite reader accidentally misunderstood my end note and thought this fic would have an epilogue, but honestly im grateful because it felt great to write this short conclusion to this verse I actually quite like! thank you so much if you read the first part and I hope you enjoy the additional fluff too ;3
> 
> [edit - there was a godawful typo in the last line I am so embarrassed and sorry to anyone who read it before I fixed it lol. thanks to my autocorrect 'backhug' became backlog and ruined the whole mood and ending fml
> 
> edit 2 IM SO DONE IT DID IT AGAIN IN THIS NOTE im disappearing from the face of this earth bye  
> this is totally my fault for not proofreading enough lmfao]

They start the reverse process of unpacking together, but halfway through their eyes lock and they tumble into bed without preamble, half put away stuff scattered on the room floor all around.

Jeno tries not to fuck Jaemin harder than usual into their mattress, tries to catch the drop of his hammering heart when how close he came to losing this flashes through his mind. But Jaemin is the one who seems extra passionate, goading Jeno to truss him up with his tie around his wrists, taking the lead.

After they’re spent Jaemin barely rests before loping to the kitchen to start dinner. Jeno picks up items strewn across the unzipped duffel and stows them away as neatly as he can. In their kitchen, Jaemin is absently turning off the stove and setting cutlery out, dressed in Jeno’s hoodie and hair drying in an uncombed tousle from his shower.

Over al dente instant ramen that somehow tastes better than restaurant takeout, Jeno leans back after his last bite and watches Jaemin’s kind smile, his mild eyes as he asks Jeno if he’s full.

‘Yeah, you can have the rest.’ Jeno gestures to the little remaining noodles in the pot. Jaemin’s smile widens and he helps himself.

He raises an eyebrow mid-chew when Jeno pulls a legal pad from the side of the table with the logo of Jaemin’s company watermarked on the pages, and a pen from the holder.

‘What are you doing?’ Jaemin pushes his empty plate aside, voice light with amusement.

Jeno stares at the blank white of the paper, and mumbles, ‘how’s work?’

Jaemin says fine, then repeats his question with more curiosity.

Jeno takes a breath and slides the pad in his direction with the pen on top.

‘I don’t want to just… brush things under the rug. You must have thought of leaving for a reason. Or,’ he winces, ‘reasons.’

He can’t read the look in Jaemin’s widened eyes, can hardly look straight into them.

After collecting his thoughts, Jaemin laughs. The sound relieves the pressure in Jeno’s shoulders. He’s wearing an old tee shirt of Jaemin’s, just because. Sometimes his boyfriend did subtle stuff like putting on his hoodie that flew over his head and though Jaemin never said so, it must be hurtful when Jeno failed to reciprocate.

‘I know you wouldn’t do that.’ Jaemin’s voice is gentle when he answers. ‘And I appreciate you wanting to take it seriously. But I think… the problem really is mine.’

‘How so?’ Jeno presses, relief growing, wanting to believe him but unable to fully.

Jaemin shrugs under his keen scrutiny. ‘I want to be stronger.’

Jeno tilts his head, waiting for him to elaborate.

‘So—‘ Jaemin reaches for the water pitcher to pour himself cornsilk tea, giving his lip a nervous bite. ‘So I can handle us without being scared of it. I want to be strong, like you.’ Jeno can somehow hear the blush in his voice on the second line.

His frankness blindsides Jeno, as it often does. His own flush at the sudden praise distracting. A pause ensues in which he tries to work up the courage to respond differently, show he wishes to be better as well.

‘This is important to me too.’ He sounds hoarse and unnatural, but it’s a start. And Jaemin smiles.

‘I was dramatic. Sorry if I made you worry.’

Jeno shakes his head. ‘I’m glad we talked things out a little.’ He is.

He gets to his feet and commences clearing the plates from their polished wood kitchen table. The weight of Jaemin’s warm gaze idly following his actions is nice, like home. Jeno’s glad there’s another person in the house, that he didn’t have to eat this meal alone. Jaemin’s simple presence makes everything different.

Changing for each other… it sounds hard, but through the years, haven’t they already altered in ways they barely even noticed to accommodate the other?

To his surprise, Jaemin has the notepad poised against the edge of the wiped countertop after Jeno washes the dishes and turns around, twirling the pen between his fingers.

‘I tried, but really can’t think of anything.’ He looks up with a sheepish, irresistible grin when Jeno approaches and touches his shoulder from behind.

‘Take your time. I’m sure you’ll manage,’ Jeno teases.

-

‘Jeno-yah,’ Jaemin says as he’s brushing his teeth before bed and Jeno is lifting the toilet seat behind to pee. ‘I think we could make this work. Don’t you?’

And one of his new resolutions is not to speak in absolutes, but Jeno figures sometimes they need a little hope. Also, this is the one thing he’s sure of in a way he isn’t about anything else in his life right now.

He finishes up and washes his hands before wrapping them around Jaemin from behind in a chaste backhug, burying his nose in the familiar juncture between shoulder and neck. Jaemin shivers.

‘Whatever it takes.’

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed. do check out my fic ‘can you give me my little skull’ if you like my writing, its johnmark but theres a lot of nomin side pairing inside that I think you won't regret reading for them, and im even writing a special nomin epilogue chapter ;3 idk their arc there is just rly cute so I wanted to rec it to my nomin readers hehe


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